by S. T. Bende
“You need sleep too,” Finna said softly.
“I just want to talk to Viggo. Then I’ll be right up,” I assured her. “Promise.”
Our meeting ended after that. Maja, Finna and Elin shuffled wearily toward our dorm, while Jande and Ondyr headed to the Great Hall to pick up a snack before turning in. When it was just Viggo and I left in the conference room, I took his hand and led him to the window. We stood there in silence, staring at the orangey glow of the smoky sky.
After a while, Viggo shifted beside me. “What’s up, Glitre?”
“You had my back through every horrific turn.” I slipped my other hand into his, and tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. “You’ve been my rock through all of this—the good, the bad, the downright terrifying.”
Viggo shrugged. “That’s what training partners do.”
“Not like this,” I said quietly. “When I first met you, I disliked you on sight. And it took a long time for you to grow on me. When I saw these marks . . .” I glanced at the sword stamped on the tip of his wing, “. . . and I realized what the Norns intended for us, I could not have been more horrified.”
“You’re really selling the moment,” Viggo said drily.
“Let me finish.” I pressed my lips together. “But every time you’ve had the chance to disappoint me—to turn tail and run, to pick the easy path over the greater good—you’ve chosen to step up. You’ve taken on more than anyone could have asked of you—and certainly more than I have any right to expect from you. You’ve been my partner in every sense of the word. Which is why, someday way in the future . . .” My chest shuddered as I drew a slow breath.
“You okay?” Viggo asked gently.
Just nervous. So very nervous.
But I pulled my shoulders back, and pressed forward. “Which is why, someday way, way, way in the future . . .”
“I get the timeline.” Viggo’s dimple popped.
“I want you to be my King. Not King Consort, like tradition dictates. But full-on King. Co-ruler of Alfheim, and my equal in every way.”
I held Viggo’s gaze as my words landed. His eyes widened, surprise painting his perfekt features as he registered what I was asking. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I vowed. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Well, I could have, but it would have sucked big time. And I don’t want to keep doing it on my own forever. You’re a good leader, and you love our realm—possibly more than anyone I’ve ever met. Your willingness to put your life on the line for her over and over again proves that. She deserves two rulers with her best interests in heart. And someday, when we’re way older, and ready to make that kind of commitment . . .”
Viggo quirked one brow. “You saying you want to marry me, Glitre?”
“No!” I blurted. “I mean, not now. Someday, maybe. If it’s what we decide. Together. Without the Norns.”
Viggo chuckled. “Those mate marks never had anything to do with my decision to be with you. You know that, right?”
“I do,” I assured him. “But I need this to keep feeling normal. Or, as normal as it can, considering I’m about to be the queen and you’re my minister of defense, and neither of us has even graduated yet.”
“It’s a strange life we live.” Viggo pulled me into his chest. His arms slipped around the small of my back, and he rubbed slow circles with his thumbs as he said, “And to answer your question, yes. I’ll be your king. So long as you call me Your Majesty.”
“Dream on.” I rested my cheek against Viggo’s chest.
We stood like that, holding each other as morning dawned across a smoky Alfheim. It would take time, and a lot of rebuilding, but one day she would shine again. And until then, I was secure in the knowledge that I was surrounded by the best possible team, wrapped in the arms of the best possible partner, and in the best possible position to bring Alfheim into a new era of peace.
Chapter 18
“YOU READY?” TEARS GLISTENED in Signy’s eyes as she fluffed out the train of my over-the-top coronation gown. It was long, and blue, and bore an inordinate number of sparkles across its tightly fitted chest.
In the month that had passed since our battle with Rankin, I’d been too distracted by my crash courses in How To Rule A Realm, and Forging Alliances 101, to notice what my royal seamstress had been up to. Or how many sequins she’d squirreled away. Sigh.
“Oh, just look at you!” Signy’s sniffles echoed throughout the throne room.
“You can’t be crying already,” I protested. “We’re just taking the portraits. The ceremony doesn’t even start for another half hour!”
“I thought your graduation was rough—I went through two handkerchiefs by the time the ceremony was over.” Signy dabbed at the corner of her eye. “But this . . . oh, my sweet girl, it’s too much. I raised you, and today you’re becoming queen. You’d better get used to the tears—there will be plenty more.”
Signy adjusted the angle of my crown. I’d only ever worn one in my entire life—the blue flowery one I’d donned for the state dinner when I’d first met Idris. That night might as well have been decades ago.
Today’s crown was considerably larger. It had the same blue, flower-shaped crystals as its “informal” counterpart, but its fleur-de-lis peaks were easily three inches tall, and it was forged from a metal that looked suspiciously similar to my sword. I hadn’t bothered to ask about its origin. If I was wearing a mini-Mjölnir on my head, I would freak out. Either that, or I’d raise it high and shout, “For Asgard!” just to see if I, too, could summon thunder.
Maybe after the coronation . . .
“There.” Signy stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You’re perfekt. And I don’t just mean your looks. You are, and always have been, absolutely wonderful, from brilliant brain to front-kick-delivering toe. You know that, don’t you?”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “I love you, too.”
Signy’s eyes glimmered as a fresh wave of tears threatened to overflow.
“No more crying,” I admonished her.
“It’s just . . .” She blinked rapidly. “Your mother would have loved this moment. She’d know just the right words to guide you into the next stage of your life. She always knew how to put everyone around her at ease. And she would have been so incredibly proud of all you’ve accomplished, and all you’ve agreed to take on.”
“She’d be proud of you too,” I said quietly. “You’ve been one badass proxy parent.”
“Language,” Signy chastised.
“I’m the queen,” I said cheekily. “Remember?”
“Titles carry no weight with me.” Signy didn’t crack a smile.
“Fine,” I sighed. “You’ve been one heck of a proxy parent. Better?”
“Much.” Signy’s gaze swept up and down my body. “Hair, crown, gown—everything looks to be in . . . Aura?”
“Mmm?”
Signy’s eyes narrowed. “Show me your shoes.”
Heat crept up my neck as I sheepishly lifted the hem of my gown.
“You cannot wear combat boots to your own coronation!”
“Why not?” I raised my chin, trying for a near perfekt imitation of my predecessor. “As regent of Alfheim, I set the tone for the sensibilities of its residents. And, as such, it behooves me to show my fellow Alfheimians that we must all be prepared to stand up for ourselves—our individual selves, our friends, and the greater good of the realm. My choice in footwear is a symbolic stance for the independence of all who wish to—”
“Oh, fine.” Signy sighed in exasperation. “Clearly, I’ve prepared you as an orator.”
“And as a Verge.” I grinned. “As queen, I’ll have to balance both worlds. I’m just trying to be prepared.”
“Are you, now?” Signy ran a hand through her cropped pixie cut. “I noticed you wore heels to your grandmother’s funeral.”
“Yeah, well . . . it’s what she would have wanted. So . . .” I shrugged.
As per Alfheimian tra
dition, Queen Constance had lain in state for two days. A stream of visitors had made the pilgrimage to the royal residence, and I’d stood reverently in the waiting area to greet every single one of them. My feet had been killing me by the time we’d finally held her funeral service, but I knew Constance would have been mortified if I’d worn my personal footwear of choice.
“Aura?” The door cracked open, and a timid head poked around its edge.
“Come in, Wynter.” I waved my friend inside. She’d proven invaluable to our team, taking charge of Rankin’s disposal, and setting up a task force of Bridgers to monitor the Cloak for the next few months. The five of them would make sure nobody on either side of the veil did anything to bring him back.
Now, Wynter stepped shyly into the room. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” As a Bridger, Wynter could communicate with spirits. Her statement could have meant anyone from Jande to the late King Leon.
“Bob,” she said. “He was discharged from the Dyr unit this morning, and you asked me to bring him.”
“Right! Thank you!” In all the craziness, I’d nearly forgotten this was Bob’s first day of freedom. “How’s he feeling?”
“He’s thrilled to be free.” Wynter shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone complain so much about being kept in such a beautiful facility.”
“It was the ‘being kept’ part he took issue with,” I offered. “Bob had free rein of the forest back on Midgard. He was none too thrilled to be confined to a care facility—even a five-star one.”
“So he told me. All the way over here,” Wynter said drily. “He’s sitting in our row, so you’ll see him at the ceremony.”
“I can’t wait,” I said honestly. “Give him a hug for me.”
Wynter shot me a look that communicated her lack of interest in hugging the prickly feline.
Fair enough.
“If you’ve got one more minute, I have a message from your dad,” Wynter offered. “It’s for you too, Professor Bergen, if you’d like to hear it.”
Signy’s spine stiffened. “Kegoth is here?”
“No,” Wynter said. “He’s not allowed outside of the Cloak. But I spoke with him there this morning, and he wanted me to tell you how proud he is of you, Aura. He says that he and your mother are watching over you today, and that they know you’ll be a brilliant leader. You already are.”
My chest tightened, and the tears I’d just teased Signy about welled up in my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“And Professor Bergen.” Wynter turned to my aunt. “He and Lilly want to thank you for getting Aura safely to this day. He says you’ve looked after their greatest treasure, and for that they will be eternally grateful.”
Signy’s tears flowed freely. “Tell them I love them both. Even Kegoth, though we never met.”
“He knows,” Wynter said with a smile.
“Are they together then?” I asked. “Did Dad finally go to Valhalla?”
“He will after today,” Wynter said. “With Rankin dead, and you surrounded by protectors—including the bobcat he selected for you—he’s free to join your mother.”
“Poor Bob’s back on guard duty?” I frowned. “I wonder how he feels about that.”
“He’s thrilled to be useful again,” Wynter assured me. “Though you’re going to want to make sure his new living situation is more spacious than the one I just ‘sprung him out of.’ His words.”
“Of course they are.” I laughed. “I guess my first act as regent will be to install a massive bobcat playground in the forest behind the palace.”
“I’m sure the caretakers will love that.” Signy groaned.
“I have to go,” Wynter said. “Zara’s holding my seat, but the chapel’s filling up, and you know how aggressive she gets when people are in her personal space.”
“Tell her I said hi.” I grinned as Wynter slipped from the room.
The door had barely clicked closed when another knock sounded.
“Come in,” I called.
“Portrait time!” Vendya burst into the throne room, a balding man close on her heels. “The queen will stand here”—she pointed—“and should be lit up from here.” She pointed again. “That should place the dress—and Her Majesty—in their most flattering lights. You have three minutes to set up.”
The man staggered beneath the weight of the lights, stool, and camera he carried. I reached out to help him, and he shot me a grateful grin.
“Take your time,” I assured him. “They can’t start this thing without me, right?”
“I suppose not.” Relief coated his wrinkled forehead, and he got to work.
Another knock made me glance at Signy. “We expecting anyone else?”
“It’s just me.” Viggo poked his head around the door. His waves had been gelled to inky black perfection, and his emerald eyes crinkled around the edges as he glanced between Vendya and the photographer. “Just wanted to see if you guys needed anything.”
“Maybe some company,” I said lightly. “Come on in.”
“I will but . . .” Viggo checked his com. “I’m also here to tell you everyone’s in place. You ready?”
“Not in the slightest. But then, what else is new?”
Viggo chuckled as he slipped through the door, clicking it closed behind him. He crossed the room, his eyes lighting up as he took in my too-fancy gown, ridiculously ornate crown, and the smattering of braids I’d allowed to be woven into my hair. His dimple popped, and I couldn’t help but drool a little at the snug fit of his blue and ivory coronation suit. With its epilates at the shoulders, and the sash across his chest, he looked every bit the fairytale prince I’d never imagined myself ending up with. And yet, here we were. Standing on the precipice of an unbelievable adventure, neither of us remotely prepared to walk the path ahead.
Here goes nothing.
An eternity passed while I waited behind the chapel’s thick golden doors. Signy and Viggo had already taken their seats, and Vendya had fluffed my train one more time before scurrying through a side door to admire her handiwork from a spot in the back row. It was just me standing behind the doors, waiting to walk down the long aisle in front of a room full of dignitaries and a handful of friends, and officially become queen.
No pressure.
The blast of horns made me jump, and I quickly smoothed the front of the bedazzled princess gown—correction, queen gown—that Vendya had called her “crowning glor-eee!” The fanfare picked up its tempo, before trilling into a rapid-fire sequence. As the final note wavered, I pulled my shoulders back and took a deep breath. I’m on.
The golden doors parted, and a hundred immaculately dressed guests trained curious eyes on me. I fought the instinct to fidget, or squirm, or straight up flee, and forced myself to stand ramrod straight as the horns trilled again. I recognized the notes as my go cue, which sent another surge of adrenaline coursing through me. Tradition mandated a formal coronation ceremony, and though I was much more of a “sign a set of papers and get it over with already” kind of girl, I knew the realm deserved this experience—especially given everything it had been through for the past seventeen years. And so, instead of thinking about the kings, queens, senators, dignitaries, and “special guests” currently triggering my flight reflex, I squeezed my shoulder blades together, forced a dignified smile on my face, and took my first step.
Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. We’d marked this over and over in rehearsals. I knew that when I got to fifty, I’d be halfway to my mark. At seventeen, I’d draw level with Viggo and Signy. And at one, I’d be standing in front of Illuminara, Alfheim’s Supreme Being of Light. She had overseen coronations, state funerals, and other official functions since my great grandparents’ rule. I had no idea how old she was—Eunice had been mortified when I’d asked her to find out—but whatever she was drinking/eating/taking in her morning tea, it was some good stuff. Illuminara didn’t look a day over forty.
Seventy. Sixty-nine
. Sixty-eight.
Keeping my eyes mostly forward, I sized up the chapel in my peripheral vision. Garlands of greenery hung from the pews, with sprays of white flowers clustered at regular intervals. Late afternoon sunlight streamed from the stained-glass windows, bathing the chapel in a peaceful pink glow. The royal florists had spent the better part of the week stringing bunches of fragrant white blooms from the windows’ ledges, and as I cleared the first half of my walk I drew a deep, soothing breath. It was a mark of how far my meditation skills had come that I didn’t miss a step when I locked eyes with Britney. I’d invited the least agreeable of the Keys to attend to avoid creating any further discord between us. We’d never be besties, but she was still a Key—and I didn’t want any bad juju in the realm I was striving to build.
Twenty-five. Twenty-four.
“Purr . . .”
Bob purred his approval as I came even with my friends’ row. His ears flickered, and I couldn’t help but grin at his familiar, furry face. My gaze moved down the row, where each of my friends stood, decked out in Vendya-designed outfits. Jande had insisted the royal seamstress make their clothes for the big day, and he now stood proudly beside my cousin. Ondyr rocked the James Bond vibe in a navy suit that perfectly complemented Jande’s ivory one. Elin, Finna and Wynter were equally gorgeous in their gowns, and Maja looked only slightly uncomfortable in her all-black pantsuit. They smiled at me, even Maja, with Elin bouncing excitedly on her toes.
“You look awesome!” she mouthed.
I responded with my most regal nod, being careful to maintain my composure. But inside, I was relieved. While everything around me seemed to be changing, I knew without a doubt our friendship never would.
Thank gods.
Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen. Whew.
Viggo shot me a rakish grin as I drew level with him and Signy. My aunt looked like she was about to explode with pride, and I gave another regal nod, showing her I could totally channel the whole queen vibe while wearing combat boots. My eyes shifted to Viggo, whose hotness factor in his Prince Charming getup was enough to make me miss a step. My cheeks pinked as I nearly stumbled, quickly catching myself and staring straight ahead for the rest of my march up the aisle.
